Fixing the TARDIS hadn't exactly been an easy thing to do while pretending that he wasn't about to die from a bullet wound, but everyone needed challenges. Handcuffing an unwilling Master to the railing of the TARDIS control room, for instant, had been a lot more difficult. Tricking Jack and Martha off-board long enough to take off without them just a bit later, on the other hand, had been really easy. It was astonishing how often that strategy worked.
So he was ignoring his body starting to fail him, whatever the Master was going on about and setting the coordinates while riding out the usual turbulence. Bumpy ride.
"For Rassilon sake, don't you dare even try to pilot this thing in that state," the Master ranted angrily, fighting violently against the cuffs. Oh this was brilliant, just brilliant. The Doctor was bleeding out everywhere and they were going to end up crashing and burning. What a crummy death to face after everything he'd done. He swore this was all on purpose.
Some sort of screwed up murder-suicide via terrible driving and a gunshot wound.
"You're awful at this when sane and conscious, don't you dare even think of--" his words were cut off when the TARDIS started to move and the Master's legs came out from under him. Which was very awkward considering the fact that he was cuffed to the rail and the jerking movement almost pulled both his arms out of the sockets. "You absolute bastard, you're going to get us killed."
"Hush. I'm not letting you get killed, I thought I made that position clear." Given the fact that he'd caught a bullet for him and all that. He did, however, almost fall to the ground, cursing at the pain when he only held on to the control board at the last moment.
The Doctor put a hand on his stomach, looking down and making a face when he saw the blood seep out from between his fingers. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But at least the TARDIS was on course now, with only the most minimal veering every now and then. Small blessing.
He stumbled over to the Master and then fell over his own feet and only managed to keep from falling over by grabbing hold of him, getting blood on his suit.
"You should have something in the TARDIS medbay, just put her in orbit and fix yourself up," the Master ordered, still trying to boss everyone around beside his currently predicament. He didn't think the Doctor was really all there right now, probably in shock. And if he didn't help him, any number of awful things could happen. Him crashing, him dying, the Master being stuck cuffed to some rails for all of eternity. None appealed.
Grimacing at the state of his suit, he tried his best to recoil from him.
"Just get off and go fix yourself up," he hissed out, his patience dwindling. "Or, at the very least, uncuff me. I can fly this thing miles better than you ever could. I actually passed my test, remember?"
"I don't see how you being an annoying know-it-all has anything to do with anything." It was a gentle reprimand, possibly teasing, and, no, the Doctor really wasn't all there yet. "She's in orbit though." He glanced back and tilted his head to the side. "I thiiink."
Looking back, he ended up resting his forehead against the Master's, one bloody hand reaching up to comb through his hair. "It's alright now. I promise. We're going to be alright."
That said, calm and annoyingly serene, he suddenly switched mode and pushed away from him, hand back against his stomach as he approached the control board and started flipping some switches.
The Master winced in horror as a blood slicked hand wiped through his hair, the Doctor's mocking words making him nothing but angry. He didn't get scared very easy but he was easy to provoke. Always had been. Closing his eyes, he counted backwards from ten till the Doctor was away from him. Oh, he'd get him back for that.
"Uncuff me," the Master tried again, wanting a bit of freedom. He wasn't the Doctor's pet, the very idea unsettled him in awful ways and he didn't even want to consider such an ugly thought. "You're bleeding out. You need my help. So just let me go and I can handle things while you patch up."
The Doctor went back to ignoring the master, focusing on the TARDIS instead and promising her to clean the blood off later. Then he walked off, well, stumbled, really, given the hole in his stomach, but he returned soon enough, to stop in front of the Master with a med kit in one hand that he presented to him.
"I do need your help."
He was already unbuttoning his shirt, not that he bothered shrugging out of the suit jacket for this, getting the shirt out of the way was well enough for now. He exposed the wound and looked at the Master, tried to catch his eyes.
The Master very pointedly jangled his cuffs. Seriously, what was he supposed to do when he was stuck here and had absolutely no medical knowledge to help? It was all a very futile act, to try and help. He needed a hospital. Or some sort of healing formula? New New York was usually the best place to grab that stuff.
"Firs off, uncuff me. I can do absolutely nothing here."
All he needed was freedom. then he could stop the bleeding, set a course for a hospital and jump ship. He wouldn't let the Doctor die so easily but he refused to stick around.
"And I'm afraid you picked the wrong man to play doctors and nurses with."
"Well, I didn't have time to pick out your uniform." The Doctor frowned, then pulled out his screwdriver and opened one of the cuffs, definitely leaving the other one where it was.
Then the screwdriver fell from his trembling hand and rolled halfway across the TARDIS. He would have minded more had he not been busy with holding on to the Master, again, to keep from falling over.
"I need both hands," the Master insisted, not capable of running away if he was stuck like this. And then what? The Doctor was bleeding everywhere, it was all down his suit and all he could do was feebly put his hand over the wound and try to stop the bleeding. Hello, engineer and scientist here, with a little knowledge of politics and sociology. Not a medical doctor.
How was he supposed to fix this kind of injury?
"Which one of us is called Doctor here? I can't fix this!" the Master protested in annoyance, tempted to let the man bleed out and regenerate. So much easier than fixing it. "You had a doctor in training and you sent her home, genius. If you die, you die. I can't help you."
And, to make that point, he pulled his hand off the wound and displayed all the blood that now covered it. "You're going to get worse, you need a hospital."
"No! I'm not going to risk losing you." That sentence came out with every bit of intensity the Doctor had and he had a lot of it.
"Now you just shut up and do as I say. I'm the Doctor, right? I can fix myself."
He grabbed the Master's wrist and pulled his hand back to the wound. "You have to get the bullet out. I can't do it myself without fainting. It's just like Operation, only you're allowed to touch the edges."
Okay, that was a new and terrifying angle. The Master stared for a while, unsure what to do, all he knew was that his hand was back to the slippery bloody mess that was the Doctor's wound. With a look of disgust, he knew he had to do something. Maybe if he did, the Doctor would pass out and he could break himself free. Dislocate his thumb and yank his hand out?
"A please and thank you goes a long way."
Awkwardly, he slipped his fingers into the hole and wriggled about, doing it as sloppily as he could to cause the bastard extra damage. Make him weaker so escape was easier. Then, finally, he pulled free the bullet and dropped it with a revolted look. "This is so not how I envisioned my plan ending. Impromptu surgery."
"That's the danger of not keeping your wife satisfied." But even as he had the energy for that bit of snark, the Doctor's legs finally gave in and he fell to the ground, kneeling and clutching his abdomen as he tried to keep his breathing in check.
"No," he whispered when he felt the first hint of regeneration, then reiterated the same word over and over, getting louder as he did so. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
The chip really was quite useful. After using it to make the Master faint, again, it gave him ample time to figure out a plan and realize that he didn't really actually have one.
However, that didn't deter him for long, not with all these possibilities of things to do. With the Master, to the Master and even disregarding the Master.
In the end what he chose to do first included iron around the Master's wrists, pulling them together and hauling him off the ceiling in a room he wasn't sure he'd seen before. But then, his mind wasn't exactly in perfect working order.
The Doctor used tape to cover the Master's eyes and another strip, just one, to cover his lips, less because he felt it would be overly effective and more because he wanted to see how the Master would react to waking up like this. And so he waited.
The first obvious thing was his eyes and how he couldn't get them open, it was the most natural thing to do and yet he couldn't even do it. A little disconcerting considering his current predicament. Whatever was wrong with the Doctor, he clearly needed help with it before he killed him. And it wasn't exactly like the Master could run off and get someone, was it?
Breathing heavily through his nose, he tried to use his tongue to remove the tape across his mouth, the whole time trying to yank his arms free. Whatever was around them was metal and solid so he doubted he could get free.
But it didn't hurt to try?
And besides, he had no intention to just accept this and live with it. No, he had to free himself and make the Doctor pay. No chance would he ever get away with this. All he had to do now was not panic.
The major reason for the tape really had been so that he could grip it on one hand and pull it off the Master's mouth, just like they did in the movies. It really was quite fun to do, it turned out, so the Doctor didn't really regret that move. Besides, there had also been something satisfying about the Master not able to talk right away. Perhaps something to keep in mind for later.
"You really have to stop passing out. It never works out well for you."
The Master yelped, unable not to, the damn tape pulled half the skin off his lips off. A minor issue considering what he was dealing with but that was going to sting. And look awful. Hissing in annoyance, he yanked at the chains once more. "If I had any control over passing out, I wouldn't do it. You try staying away when being shocked and choked at the same time."
He was trying to work out exactly where the Doctor was in the room. If he could find him, he maybe kick him? He probably had enough leverage. "What game as we playing now then? Another impossible to get out of torture? I'm starting to feel like you're just ripping off my greatest hits with Harkness."
"I doubt I can. You don't come back to life." The Doctor was walking around the Master as he spoke and then he suddenly stepped right behind him, leaning down to whisper into his ear. "But maybe you should tell me what this reminds you off. Maybe it will give me some inspiration. You never know. One year of this, I'm sure there's something you'd enjoy among the many possibilities."
"Do your own dirty work," the Master complained. If he was being tortured, the Doctor could put a little more effort in. Frowning, he used his feet to gain a little boost and swung himself back, trying to kick the Doctor who he presumed would still be behind him. Well, he caught the side of something solid so he was kind of hoping that was him. "I'm not stay here for a year, you miserable pathetic worm! Go play with Earth girls and leave me alone. You can't just keep me like some pet!"
"I'm planning on it," the Doctor assured him, just hissing when the Master's foot connected with him. He grabbed the Master by one shoulder and turned him around like a strung up puppet, putting his hands on the side of his face and leaning their foreheads together.
"You're not some pet. Don't say it like that. You're so much more, aren't you? Old friend. Old enemy. You're so much more." With those last few words already pretty much whispered against the Master's mouth, the kiss might not be as surprising as it had been the first time and the Doctor wasted no time with deepening it.
The Master fought back the dizzy feeling as he tried to work out where he was, unable to grasp onto anything or find anything to ground him. He couldn't even see where he was. the only thing to ground him was a rather drawn out kiss that took a little more control than he liked. He didn't particularly enjoy someone forcing their tongue into his mouth, that was usually his job.
"Get off," the Master finally said when he finally managed to yank his face back enough. He wasn't about to be used like that, if anyone was going to take control here, it was him. Not this moron. "If you're going to do something, do it. Don't start using me as kissing practise."
"I'm not practising. I'm quite good at it, I'll have you know!" Also quite childish while he was at it, apparently. "And I don't want to hurt you. What is it with you and always wanting me to take you down?"
He ran his hand through the Master's hair with a long, drawn-out sigh before pulling away.
"You really like it, don't you? You like it when I defeat you. Why is that?"
"I don't want to be taken down. The choice really isn't mine, is it?" The Master said pointedly, rattling the chains to make his point. Did the idiot actually think he wanted this? That he enjoyed having his throat horribly bruised and being shocked till he passed out? Really not his idea of a fun weekend.
He couldn't really of deluded himself into thinking the Master liked being crushed like this?
"Just let me leave, Doctor. We can pretend this didn't happen and move on, return to how things were. This isn't you and we both know it," the Master reasoned the best he could, trying to keep his anger in check. Maybe he could negotiate out of it? That was possible.
"Not me? Oh, please, tell me what would be more me. What do you really think is what I would do, should do?" The Doctor crouched down in front of the Master, looking up at his blindfolded face with a curious expression and just the hint of a smile. "I want to know. I want to know how well you really think you know me. Don't try to trick me. Just tell me, Master, tell me what the Doctor would do with you."
"You wouldn't torture me, you never do. You're always quick and vengeful or you let me wriggle free. I've known you for over a thousand years and done much worse than the valiant, this level of 'justice' is because something -- well, I don't know! Maybe a screw fell lose during your regeneration!" the Master snapped angrily, renewing his struggle because this was all really stupid and he was beyond fed up of being quizzed and tortured by this unhinged idiot.
"All I know is that you're fucking mental," the Master spat out angrily, just wanting desperately to break free and choke the life out of this smug bastard, teach him the meaning of pain. "Now let me go!"
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stalemated2014-01-10 01:54 am
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So he was ignoring his body starting to fail him, whatever the Master was going on about and setting the coordinates while riding out the usual turbulence. Bumpy ride.
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Some sort of screwed up murder-suicide via terrible driving and a gunshot wound.
"You're awful at this when sane and conscious, don't you dare even think of--" his words were cut off when the TARDIS started to move and the Master's legs came out from under him. Which was very awkward considering the fact that he was cuffed to the rail and the jerking movement almost pulled both his arms out of the sockets. "You absolute bastard, you're going to get us killed."
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The Doctor put a hand on his stomach, looking down and making a face when he saw the blood seep out from between his fingers. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But at least the TARDIS was on course now, with only the most minimal veering every now and then. Small blessing.
He stumbled over to the Master and then fell over his own feet and only managed to keep from falling over by grabbing hold of him, getting blood on his suit.
"...I'll pay the dry-cleaning."
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Grimacing at the state of his suit, he tried his best to recoil from him.
"Just get off and go fix yourself up," he hissed out, his patience dwindling. "Or, at the very least, uncuff me. I can fly this thing miles better than you ever could. I actually passed my test, remember?"
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Looking back, he ended up resting his forehead against the Master's, one bloody hand reaching up to comb through his hair. "It's alright now. I promise. We're going to be alright."
That said, calm and annoyingly serene, he suddenly switched mode and pushed away from him, hand back against his stomach as he approached the control board and started flipping some switches.
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"Uncuff me," the Master tried again, wanting a bit of freedom. He wasn't the Doctor's pet, the very idea unsettled him in awful ways and he didn't even want to consider such an ugly thought. "You're bleeding out. You need my help. So just let me go and I can handle things while you patch up."
Or, more likely, he'd just run away.
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"I do need your help."
He was already unbuttoning his shirt, not that he bothered shrugging out of the suit jacket for this, getting the shirt out of the way was well enough for now. He exposed the wound and looked at the Master, tried to catch his eyes.
"Help me, Master."
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"Firs off, uncuff me. I can do absolutely nothing here."
All he needed was freedom. then he could stop the bleeding, set a course for a hospital and jump ship. He wouldn't let the Doctor die so easily but he refused to stick around.
"And I'm afraid you picked the wrong man to play doctors and nurses with."
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Then the screwdriver fell from his trembling hand and rolled halfway across the TARDIS. He would have minded more had he not been busy with holding on to the Master, again, to keep from falling over.
"Come on, come on. You can do it. I trust you."
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How was he supposed to fix this kind of injury?
"Which one of us is called Doctor here? I can't fix this!" the Master protested in annoyance, tempted to let the man bleed out and regenerate. So much easier than fixing it. "You had a doctor in training and you sent her home, genius. If you die, you die. I can't help you."
And, to make that point, he pulled his hand off the wound and displayed all the blood that now covered it. "You're going to get worse, you need a hospital."
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"Now you just shut up and do as I say. I'm the Doctor, right? I can fix myself."
He grabbed the Master's wrist and pulled his hand back to the wound. "You have to get the bullet out. I can't do it myself without fainting. It's just like Operation, only you're allowed to touch the edges."
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"A please and thank you goes a long way."
Awkwardly, he slipped his fingers into the hole and wriggled about, doing it as sloppily as he could to cause the bastard extra damage. Make him weaker so escape was easier. Then, finally, he pulled free the bullet and dropped it with a revolted look. "This is so not how I envisioned my plan ending. Impromptu surgery."
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"No," he whispered when he felt the first hint of regeneration, then reiterated the same word over and over, getting louder as he did so. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
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However, that didn't deter him for long, not with all these possibilities of things to do. With the Master, to the Master and even disregarding the Master.
In the end what he chose to do first included iron around the Master's wrists, pulling them together and hauling him off the ceiling in a room he wasn't sure he'd seen before. But then, his mind wasn't exactly in perfect working order.
The Doctor used tape to cover the Master's eyes and another strip, just one, to cover his lips, less because he felt it would be overly effective and more because he wanted to see how the Master would react to waking up like this. And so he waited.
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Breathing heavily through his nose, he tried to use his tongue to remove the tape across his mouth, the whole time trying to yank his arms free. Whatever was around them was metal and solid so he doubted he could get free.
But it didn't hurt to try?
And besides, he had no intention to just accept this and live with it. No, he had to free himself and make the Doctor pay. No chance would he ever get away with this. All he had to do now was not panic.
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"You really have to stop passing out. It never works out well for you."
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He was trying to work out exactly where the Doctor was in the room. If he could find him, he maybe kick him? He probably had enough leverage. "What game as we playing now then? Another impossible to get out of torture? I'm starting to feel like you're just ripping off my greatest hits with Harkness."
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"You're not some pet. Don't say it like that. You're so much more, aren't you? Old friend. Old enemy. You're so much more." With those last few words already pretty much whispered against the Master's mouth, the kiss might not be as surprising as it had been the first time and the Doctor wasted no time with deepening it.
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"Get off," the Master finally said when he finally managed to yank his face back enough. He wasn't about to be used like that, if anyone was going to take control here, it was him. Not this moron. "If you're going to do something, do it. Don't start using me as kissing practise."
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He ran his hand through the Master's hair with a long, drawn-out sigh before pulling away.
"You really like it, don't you? You like it when I defeat you. Why is that?"
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He couldn't really of deluded himself into thinking the Master liked being crushed like this?
"Just let me leave, Doctor. We can pretend this didn't happen and move on, return to how things were. This isn't you and we both know it," the Master reasoned the best he could, trying to keep his anger in check. Maybe he could negotiate out of it? That was possible.
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"All I know is that you're fucking mental," the Master spat out angrily, just wanting desperately to break free and choke the life out of this smug bastard, teach him the meaning of pain. "Now let me go!"